* * *
"Things are falling apart, aren't they?"
"Looks that way."
"It's...it's all right. I mean...I never really expected it to last."
"Yeah...me neither."
"So...I guess this is goodbye."
"Guess so...so...goodbye."
"Bye..."
"Hey, if you ever wanna do a spell or something, we could still get together, you know?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice."
The girl with the two-toned hair smiled and nodded in that unintentionally sardonic way she had. Willow returned the smile half-heartedly and shuffled out of Tara's dorm to head to Giles' for the first annual Scooby Gang Fourth of July Barbecue.
And so, that was that. It seemed like a win-win situation; all
the study with none of the painful heartbreak. All it had been was
an xploration-type
thing, nothing really serious, nothing lasting... ::Damn me for being
so...so...stupidly sensitive!:: Willow rambled to herself. She couldn't
help it--she
was a crier. She cried when things went sour. That was
just the way she was. Granted, she hated it, but. She didn't even
let herself think of how she'd missed her second chance with Oz over the
other Wiccan.
Determinedly collecting herself, the small redhead strode down the street to Giles' place. She quickly wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her corduroy jacket, sniffled, and plastered a rather unconvincing smile on her face.
When she opened the unlocked door, the state of the modest home surprised her--the state being empty. The television had been left on, and a pizza box had been left open unceremoniously on the dining table, presumably from the watcher's breakfast. With a glance at the clock she saw that it was still only 10:00 a.m. ::Never too early for break-ups, huh, Rosenberg?:: She smirked and rolled her eyes.
"Wow. They must've left in a hurry; Giles is never this dirty..." she mumbled to herself as she inspected the premises further. A yellow slip of paper resting on top of the pizza box caught her eye, and her eyes swept over the text with remarkable speed. Her lips moved along with the words, but...she had a feeling that her voice hadn't changed from alto to baritone in two minutes.
"Willow--Buffy with Riley getting 'stuff' (no, I don't want to know, either), Xander and Anya went for more food, I've gone for fireworks. Don't let Spike in until I get home; he can bake outside if he's early--oh, now that's just bloody rude," the blond vampire whinged. Willow had since jumped up and spun around when she heard his low, masculine voice reading her note from over her shoulder.
"You know, you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that..."
"Sure I should. It's funny. You should see your face when you're surprised sometime. It's like an odd combination of bug-eyes and Michael buggery Jordan leaping for a slam dunk."
The witch rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, Spike. I'll make a mental note to not call you when I'm fishing for a self-esteem boost."
"Counting on it, pet," he winked at her, then gracefully jumped over
the back of the couch and landed on his back securely in the cushions.
"When's
this little garden party supposed to be starting, anyway?"
Willow made her way into the kitchen in search of Diet Coke, but judging from the liquid contents of the refrigerator, the entire gang would be drinking nothing non-alcoholic during the holiday. She sighed. At least it was a relatively safe environment for beer. But then, Giles was English-- *any* environment was safe for beer. There weren't even national beer segregations. Who knew Giles could offer to be so patriotic on Fourth of July? "Soon as everyone's here," she called back to the living room while she rummaged. ::Aha! Victory is mine!:: she thought triumphantly, retrieving the last can of soda from the very back, hidden behind milk that was old enough to be considered laboratory testing material. "Spike?"
He looked back at her up-side-down from his spot on the couch. "Yeah?"
"Just a question, but...why did you agree to come over this early?"
Spike opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, then opened it again. "All right. I admit it. My life is boring as all bloody fuck."
"You mean you'd actually rather spend time with us than alone all broody by yourself?" she exclaimed, grinning.
"I don't brood. I'm not the sodding poof. And I don't want to be around all of you. The entire group is my last option, but I can work around them."
"Oh...'K..." Willow's expression changed from puzzled to sorrowful.
"Something wrong, Red?" he asked, quirking one dark eyebrow.
"No! No, nothing. Me and Tara, we just...didn't."
He let out a long, bored sigh. "And here I was hoping something interesting'd come out of you for once. Bloody hell, love, all these months and it's been 'oh, dogboy left me, boo-hoo!' And then you go and leave the damn wolf when he comes back for you--and for *her*," he emphasized the word with disgust, "just so you can wallow in self-pity for another few months. Honestly, Red, if you want the attention so bloody much--"
"Hey! Just you just-just hold on a minute! I do *not* want the pity o-of Buffy or Xander or Giles or-or anyone else! Especially not you."
"You wouldn't get it from me, love. Only thing I can tell you is that I know how it goes. That's all there is to it."
"Then why are you bitching at me about it?"
"Hey now--I don't bitch. I was just tellin' it like it is."
"You bitched, mister! That was not a textbook statement. You were mad at me."
"I'm not mad at you. You're paranoid."
Willow clenched her jaw and balled her fists up at her sides. The tell-tale stinging in her eyes warned her of tears that would waste no time in coming. "Yeah, OK, you're right. I'm a whiney, paranoid, self-serving little bitch. Happy now?"
Spike rolled his eyes and glanced back at her, then swore under his breath. She was crying--he wasn't happy. He hated it when women cried. Made him feel all awkward and poofy. Sure, a little fear-induced hysterical sobbing right before a kill was great--but when you couldn't kill the person and weren't terrified...that was another story.
He sighed and fumbled for the right words. "Pet...Willow, come on, don't cry. I...I didn't mean it."
"Yes you did," she sobbed, "and you were right."
::Bloody Christ...why me?:: "No, really, I was talkin' outta my
ass the entire time. None of it's true. Made it all up."
That, for some reason, only
made her cry harder. ::Must...resist...urge to...apologize...::
"Willow, I'm...sorry." ::Damn! Why do you have to be such a sucker
for a pout...?::
She sniffled.
"I'm sorry. I took it too far. You're not..." another sigh, "you're not a whiney, paranoid, self-serving little...you're not, OK?"
She looked up at him through her lashes, green doe-eyes wide with hope. "Prove it."
Spike cursed himself for the dozenth time. That was the final straw--he knew then and there that everyone had a destiny, and his was to coddle hurting women. "Well, you're...you're smart. And...peppy. And you're pretty when you smile." She rewarded this with a small smile, but he continued on for good measure. "You're nice, which is usually a quality I despise in humans, but since a lot of it is directed at me, on you it's a good thing. You always bend over backwards for people no matter how they treat you. You don't smell bad. Kinda like fruit punch. And you're...fuzzy. You feel soft."
Willow giggled. "How would you know what I feel like?"
"Remember the factory? Uh...my head on your--"
"Oh! That! Yeah, yes, I remember," she stammered, a flush creeping up on her skin at the memory. After a moment, she smiled, thinking over the things he had said. Getting up, she walked over to him and knelt down briefly by the couch to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Spike," she murmured, then rose just as Xander, Anya, Buffy, Riley, and Giles all paraded through the door, everyone of course trying to wedge through the threshold at the same time.
The group's crises went unnoticed, however, by the blond vampire splayed
on the couch who was tracing his fingers along a chiseled cheekbone and
biting his lip as he contemplated the phantom warmth of Willow-kissage.